Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: The Academy's Saintess (1)
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Omega Detroit had no public schools for compulsory education.
Nowhere in the city charter was there any provision guaranteeing the right to education.
Thus, the only facilities that could be called educational institutions in this city were a handful of private academies, each with their own special purposes.
The most prominent among them were the "Academies" established by corporations.
These were academies set up by each company to directly train the talent they needed.
Graduating from one gave you a huge edge in getting hired by that corporation, so most city dwellers dreamed of enrolling their kids in them.
But with sky-high competition rates, exorbitant tuition, and even rigorous checks on family background, only a select few could actually make it past the gate.
Someone might wonder about that.
"With a neural implant and one data chip, you can etch hundreds of hours' worth of knowledge straight into your brain—why bother with schools at all?"
But knowledge dumped in like that was just like open-book exam notes. Anyone could look it up and grab it, but putting it to efficient use? That was a whole different ballgame.
Take those nightmare group presentation assignments from college that had everyone shaking in their boots, for instance.
A top student sifts through the gathered materials multiple times, boils them down to the essentials, and whips up a slick presentation. A slacker, though? They just copy-paste straight from the net.
Both have the raw "information," sure—but the gap in actually understanding and wielding it? Worlds apart.
No surprise their handling of pop-up questions mid-presentation would be night and day.
The Academies taught you the art of taking that raw data and bending it to fit real situations.
Of course, that was just one slice of the curriculum.
They drilled corporate culture, etiquette, and protocols—plus finance, admin, management, leadership, a whole arsenal of social skills and insider know-how, specialized expertise, and all the values and tricks to mold you into the exact kind of talent the company craved. Then they tested you on it.
That was the Academy of Omega Detroit.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Okay, hold on a sec."
I cut in around then, my voice tinged with bewilderment.
"I get what you're saying. I do—but does that really mean I have to go there myself...?"
Sure, I felt the need too.
To steer our ballooning Church, the seat-of-the-pants approach was hitting hard limits.
I needed proper, structured knowledge for management, business, running an organization—and yeah, I admitted the Academy was the best spot to get it efficiently.
But this world was a tech paradise, right? No need to physically show up; remote sessions or AR classes could cover it just fine. That's what I argued back.
A steady voice came through the comm from the other end.
["Of course. Just like you said, we can tweak the education to full remote tutoring anytime. But attending the Academy isn't just about cramming knowledge. Think about it—the cream of the crop, all gathered under the banner of 'education.' Doesn't that gathering itself mean something?"]
"......"
Yeah, I was starting to catch the drift.
Put simply, every kid in this city's private academies was elite stock.
And at the level of the big 100 corps' Academies? It wasn't only about landing a job there. Some enrolled for other angles entirely.
Like grads from those hoity-toity old-money schools, still bonded by alma mater prestige years later, keeping their social circles tight. Even if they veered into different paths, they flocked early to network with the prodigies who'd prop up the city someday.
So the Academy doubled as a networking playground for the next-gen elite.
"You want me to build connections there too?"
["No hard sell. But since you're diving into education anyway, why not seize the chance? Running a group boils down to handling people—books give knowledge, but rubbing shoulders with all sorts builds the real edge."]
"......"
Coming from him, it wasn't advice you could just shrug off.
Sure, most Academy kids were powerless sprouts. And even with outside elites mixing in, the bulk would be Lumina Group staff brats.
With the top dog Chairman—my Godfather— squarely in my corner, cozying up to the rank-and-file might seem pointless.
But no power player runs everything solo. Mega-corps moved on the backs of layers of mid-managers and frontline grunts.
After tasting big corp muscle firsthand in this mess, I couldn't shake the thought: getting face-time now might pay dividends later.
Sensing my resolve cracking, Godfather sweetened the pot.
["Naturally, Eve—you don't need to show up daily like some exam-grinding normie. Church work's packed, so most classes'll be remote one-on-one. Just drop in a day or two when you've got breathing room. That's plenty."]
'This is less school, more straight-up social club...'
No dodging it now—I caved and took the offer.
"Alright, I'll... give it a shot. Thanks for looking out."
And that very evening.
The instant I unpacked the delivery at the Church, regret hit like a truck.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I stood before the mirror, giving myself one final once-over.
"........"
Reflected in the clear glass: one cute schoolgirl.
It had that crisp, formal edge unlike my daily wear—yet brimmed with that fresh, youthful vibe unique to the design.
Felt straight-up like cosplay; my cheeks burned.
I sighed.
'Am I really doing this—back to school in this getup, at my age...?'
Lumina Academy had no age cap. Adults could enroll, technically.
But graduation dragged on forever, tuition was a black hole—and for any grown-up, busting into that cutthroat admissions rat race beat just grabbing any job and stacking experience.
Hence, students were mostly teens. The uniformed girl staring back looked right in that age bracket too—cue another sigh.
"Haa...."
Purpose in mind, I bucked up.
Master Church ops through the Academy's pro training.
Necessary stuff. No room for embarrassment, outfit be damned.
Resolve locked, I hopped into the ride parked cathedral-side.
Opposite me this time: Esty, bodyguard duty. Wealthy scions packed the Academy, so escort-toting students weren't unheard of.
Godfather had vetted her past—no ties to them—so green light for duo travel.
Vroom-!
The AV lifted off smooth.
Light g-forces pinning me back, I fussed once more with the uniform skirt's awkward hem.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Stepping from the AV parked near the Academy, a behemoth tower loomed—easily 100+ floors.
Impressive height, but the whole thing wasn't the Academy.
Lumina Group subsidiary high-rise; they just leased a chunk of floors for classes.
After a beat gawking at it, I headed in—to a security checkpoint manned by guards.
One eyed my uniform, spoke up.
"New Academy enrollee? First time in our building? Head to Academic Affairs on 14, register your records, then staff'll guide you."
I nodded, cleared first.
The guard waved me through, casual.
"Cleared."
Esty's turn—beep!—shrill alarm blared.
The guard, unfazed: "Bodyguard, please wait in the first-floor lounge till end of classes."
We traded looks. I piped up first.
"No real threats inside a place like this, so me solo upstairs should be fine."
She nodded.
"Any issue, terminal ping me. Ten seconds flat, wherever you are."
Sounded hyperbolic for this monolith—but Esty? She'd make it.
Reassured, I nodded her way and soloed the elevator.
'14th floor.'
Button hit, zip—there.
Ding-
Doors parted smooth to...
Bright-lit, tidy academy lobby.
A few uniform-clad kids milling confirmed: right spot.
'Academic Affairs where, though?'
Scanning forked halls for signs, tap-tap on my shoulder.
"?"
"Um...."
Whirl—a girl stood there.
Baggy uniform. Tousled hair, droopy eyes lending a puppy-soft vibe.
She hemmed, asked:
"First day at the Academy, new student?"
"Yeah, but...?"
"Ah! Been waiting! Nice to meet ya—I'm Aisha, Class C. Teacher roped me into guide duty! This way!"
With that, she bolted ahead.
I scanned around once, then tailed her.
Their exit spot.
Bell tolled; lobby kids scattered corridor-ward in clusters.
Moments later, in the class-kicked-off ghost town, elevator doors slid open again.
Out stepped another student.
Boy in stiffish uniform, rubbernecking forever like hunting someone.
But the started-class lobby? Deader than dead.
"......?"